


Tales of Obi-wan Kenobi: The Mandalorian Knight

by ThatOne749



Series: Tales of Obi-wan Kenobi: A Star Wars AU [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Gen, Mandalorian AU, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, mercenary au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2019-01-12
Packaged: 2019-05-15 00:06:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,142
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14779847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThatOne749/pseuds/ThatOne749
Summary: What if our favorite Jedi accepted a mandalorian's offer to stay. Carve out his own path to serve the balance, not pander to the High Council (and by extension, the Senate)? How would this affect not only Obi-wan, but the galaxy at large. Completely AU, mix of 'Legends' and Cannon as story progresses, to create a more familiar galaxy with some deserving alien concepts.Inspired by 'For the Right Price'





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [For the Right Price](https://archiveofourown.org/works/11021901) by [ShaeTiann](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaeTiann/pseuds/ShaeTiann). 



963 years after Ruusan Reformation, 3rd month, 2nd day, 11:30 Galactic Standard Time (or [963:3:2] 11:30am)

“Master?”

The questioning tone of Obi wan Kenobi, Padawan to Qui Gon Jinn echoed through the serene halls of the Council tower as the young man found his Jedi master, having both come from different directions.

“Ah, Padawan, how did your sparring go?” The brief flush on the younger’s face told Qui-Gon more than his padawan could. Evidently there was an embarrassing story there, which he was _very much_ looking forward to getting. Always good to remind the younger generation that, contrary to popular belief their elders did in fact, possess at least _a little_ knowledge and a master of the same age group as Mace Windu could at least offer pointers on duelling.

 _No stop that, Bad Jedi Master_ he chided himself internally. After all, on attaining the rank of Master, one had to be above such petty gripes as ‘I told you so’ and the like. Well, in the name of educating a Padawan, a few subtle hints to the affect would be regarding more as a teaching exercise, surely, than a petty one-upmanship.

“Fine Master.” His apprentice muttered. “Would you have any idea why the Council summoned us master, a mission perhaps?” the eagerness for a mission was written all over the young man’s posture, leaving Qui-Gon a second to lament another potentially missed opportunity to get some of the Old Guard together for an impromptu duel tournament.

Buoyed by this thought, Obi wan Kenobi fell deferentially beside the Great Doors to the council room, obviously waiting for his master to take up the traditionally assigned position before they opened the doors to the antechamber where an attendant would alert the High Council of their arrival.

“Patience is the mark of a Jedi, Obi wan, there could be many reasons the council has summoned us, don’t be so quick to jump to conclusions.”

And with that, the elder took up his position, ahead and slightly to the right of the padawan, as tradition dictated, before both moved into the waiting antechamber.

[963:3:2] 1:30pm)

“Well, that went well.”

“Sarcasm is one of the lowest forms of wit, my apprentice.”

[963:3:3] 9:30am)

The Jedi pair were finalising their preparations for a ‘long-term’ mission, which, it had not escaped either’s notice, the _length_ hadn’t been specified. It was always better to assume the worst case scenario and be over-prepared than, as his apprentice put it, “Caught with your trousers down”, so packing enough ration bars, local currency, long range transmitters (‘If any Jedi lands in the middle of Daggobah, I have a running bet with Quinilan that it’ll be _us_ Master, so I want to be prepared’ came Obi wan’s retort to his questioning.) and energy cells.

When they were _finally_ kitted out, enough to withstand a small siege, the two Jedi left their master-apprentice room down to the hanger, where their waiting transport would take them to _Mandalore_ of all places.

Apparently there was _pacifist Mandalorian_. Well, he’d heard of stranger things, namely a failed initiated that, a few years later, was actively rumoured to be a potential council member upon attaining appropriate seniority.

“Master,” his wryly grinning apprentice began, once they’d reached the hanger and gone through the pre-requisite checks of both transport and gear.

 _“Obi-wan?”_ it was odd how his apprentice chose then to, presumably voice a question after they had completed their checks.

“You do realise that this mission is the stuff of initiate nightmares. I think that we were assigned this deliberately so that the Council could find a way of stopping any other potential unorthodox Jedi and getting us out of their hair at the same time. Two mynocks, one blaster bolt.”

 _‘Damn brat’_ the Master sent over their training bond fondly. The two Jedi boarded the transport with little fanfare, having said their goodbyes and commiserated over the unspecified, but apparently _long_ mission they were to go on.

With that, both men took a final look at their Coruscant home in what they could _feel_ would be some time and began plotting the course for an appropriate hyperspace jump when their ship reached the departure point outside the planet’s atmosphere.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan has left the Jedi to take up a Mandalorian's offer. It has been a few years since any Jedi has seen the erstwhile Padawan.
> 
> What happens when Master and Padawan are reunited once more?

968:9:19 4:27pm (around 11:40am on Tatooine in Mos Espa) – On Entering Mos Espa

Qui-Gon walked through the street that was, for all intents and purposes, Mos Espa’s main commercial road, a… _bizarre_ array of, well, _anything_ looked like it could be traded here.

Luckily, as a Jedi Master, he’d travelled to many such locations, the novelty and almost sheer _awe_ that would have struck anyone, was no more than a passing flicker to be brushed off, in favour of a mission.

Of course, not every member of his party could say the same, especially, he winced, when they passed a small slave market. Travelling the length of the galaxy and having hardened himself to the suffering that he _knew_ , but it didn’t make it any easier, he could not change made it almost _too_ easy to brush aside another reminder of the barbarity of the outlying systems.

A small gasp, and Qui-Gon could just _imagine_ the picture of the girl behind him, for it had been similar to his own. Mouth open in shock, partially covered by a hand (not all etiquette lost, even in the throes of distress), eyes wide, looking to imprint this memory so that _when_ she came back, she would know exactly how to eradicate it.

Ah to be young, idealistic and believe your power stretched into changing the underlying economy of entire _systems_.

Qui-Gon quickly shook off that thought, and the accompanying train that would have followed, something always along the lines of; _Oh Obi-Wan, why couldn’t you have stayed_.

Turning to look at the … handmaiden, he grimaced. Who did she think she was fooling. He was a Jedi Master, everyone on the ship was on the same side, if anything, keeping crucial information would quite easily lead to her death, especially if the other guardsmen risked their lives to protect a decoy instead of her, or, such as now, where she was allowed to wander on an _unknown, possibly hostile, definitely unfriendly_ planet, with, what seemed resistance only from the Captain. _Well, that makes_ one _person of sense on the entire ship._

It was getting bad, the elder Jedi mused, when his internal thoughts took on his apprentice’s dry humour to keep his spirits up, _as if the past fiveyears didn’t happen._

Padme had her posture exactly as Qui-Gon thought, except it looked like a few small tears building up. _Shock and pity,_ any other time, he would let another deal with their emotions in their own time and gently move them along. But here, a young girl, so obviously naïve, would be taken faster than he could blink, if the stares and activity from the shady cantina were anything to go by. He needed to get her out and realise that, on this planet, in this system, the horrors she was so unused to were normal everyday occurrences. They couldn’t further jeopardise this mission due to one girl’s ideals, no mater how powerful that girl happened to be.

Jar-jar on the other hand, looking around, not quite understanding what was happening, and being awed by a non-tropical planet with no water for miles upon miles. Of course, to a being that had lived their entire life on a single, lush tropical planet, going to one that was almost its exact opposite was most definitely jarring. Hopefully Jar-Jar would adapt quickly once he realised the gravity of the situation.

Or not, as the gungan began gesturing, _again_ to the sand-domes hiding some of the less well-to-do citizens that couldn’t quite afford the more distinctive huts.

“Come on, Padme, Jar-Jar, we need to find a hyperdrive. If the dealers along here have nothing, we’ll try one of the smaller ones.” Although, his gut was urging him to look at the smaller stores.

With great difficulty, Padme turned from the sight of the slave market, her composure barely holding as she looked to her Jedi protector and fellow Nabooian.

“Please, master Jedi, can you do nothing about this?”  her arm waved encompassing the whole of what appeared to be the lower-class quarter and slave district.

“Padme,” he began patiently, she _needed_ them to get this hyperdrive to help _her planet_ , and yes, whilst there _was_ untold misery and suffering out in the galaxy, individual actions would, overall, change nothing. The Senate, the Jedi, the Courts, _that_ was how change could be accomplished, helped along by individual actions of course, but the bigger picture must always remain.

“No, we cannot, _for the moment.”_ He added, seeing the anger and self-righteousness build up, trying to stave it off for a less public confrontation. “We _must_ get a hyperdrive in order to get to Coruscant. _Your people_ are suffering as well. We can help them to greater effect than these unfortunate souls.”

The anger abated, but only until they were back on-ship, then Qui-Gon would ready himself, and his arguments, honed from years as ‘ _The_ maverick’, but until then, they _needed_ to find a shop. This mission was already far too complex even with the invasion. There was definitely some deeper work at play.

Suddenly, he felt a nudge to a particular direction, the strongest he felt the force since accepting the mission those weeks ago.

“Come, you two, I think I’ve seen somewhere.”

Corralling the two outraged, smouldering Nabooians, along with R2D2, who at least didn’t make trouble, along, the eclectic crew began making their way to the junkyard section of the town.

 

968:9:21 9:30pm (around 4:40pm on Tatooine in Mos Espa) – After the Boonta Eve Classic

As the Qui-Gon made his way towards the smaller booths within the stadium for the Boonta Eve Classic to find the Toydarian Watto and collect his _winnings_ , he felt a force signature that he’d been missing, like a phantom limb, for the past five years.

Quietly, shielding his presence in the Force, he slipped further from the booths towards the pit lanes housing the racers, or in many cases, the _remains_ of said racers.

“…stupid Ruusaan, we’ll never get them like that.” Two figures in distinctive Mandalorian armour were leaning on a workbench, helmets down, in a rather animated discussion, involving, if not the racer, than at least one of their pods or sponsors nearby. The armour made it difficult to detect which one was his apprentice, and with a more muted Force signature, Qui-Gon was then slightly apprehensive as to what he would find, if not his beloved apprentice.

Letting his Force shields slip, just enough for a trained Jedi to sense him, as they often did in Hide-and-Seek games with younglings, the taller of the couple trailed off, and began making rapid gestures to the other – presumably ‘Ruusaan’ – and they fell quiet, the shorter then heading off, most likely to a more secluded alcove not filled with crates or tools.

Then, as the figure turned, the Jedi Master got his first good look at the Mandalorian.

Green armour, sand-coloured linings and fabric – most likely to represent gold, if his memory served him well of Mandalorian colours. Specific colours meant different things, but for the life of him, Qui-Gon could not remember what each colour  represented.

Conscious of the potential cover of his apprentice, and all to aware of his own as a recently entering spacer, neither man made grandiose movements towards each other. Qui-Gon slipped next to the Mandalorian, who graciously poured a drink from a container left by Ruusaan.

“Qui-Gon, its good to see you again.” The mandalorian’s voice, altered through his helmet, filtered through.

“Obi-Wan.” And _Force,_ Qui-Gon couldn’t remember the last time he felt such a lump in his throat.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another story-building chapter, don't worry, explanations are coming, but a little insight into how Qui-Gon's thought processes and tolerance for whims of others has been affected by his Padawan's departure.
> 
> Any comments or pointers are gratefully received.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One Galactic Standard year since he had left the Jedi Order, Obi-Wan has changed from the serene, perfect Jedi the Coruscant Temple knew him as. Now a mandalorian with an uncanny sabacc ability who can pull off some hitherto impossible feats, is making a name for himself. This is just one of his many (mis)adventures since leaving the Order.

[964:3:2] 9:30am (3:47pm on Vjun local time)

Three hundred and sixty eight days.

One Galactic Standard Year.

One year since he had left the Jedi Order.

A rattling explosion quickly drew Obi-Wan Kenobi – or Ben Merak as he now called himself – out of his reverie.

Screams, of fear, rage and shear stupidity mixed with blaster fire and explosions, rubble threatening to fall on any poor _shabuir_ not fast enough to keep moving, he _hated_ catacombs with a passion, no matter if they were a _fucking shortcut_ or not.

The dismembered arm of some poor bastard caught in a frag explosion served to underline that thought, ambushes were just too bloody easy in unmapped, cramped _fucking catacombs._

Instincts honed from mock battles with his _aliit_ told him to lean out and _fire now damnit!_ The scream of a modified blaster pistol ringing out three quick shots – _head, arm, torso_ – onto the two poor _shabs_ that chose that moment to lean out and were a fraction too slow. Not waiting to see the results, the young Mandalorian leaned back into his rocky cover.

His comm buzzed to life, quickly flicking it on, he pulled his wrist close to his mouth and bellowed at his _alor_

“You _dik’utla_ bastard! You think we all have a death wish? Your damn contact screwed us over!! When I drag myself out of here, we’ll have a talk on fucking _good intel_ before a job!!”

It took a few seconds for Corvin Wolesy to respond to that, obviously hoping the job was complete.

“Dammnit Merak, you don’t tell _me_ how to run my jobs. You may have karking decent nav skills, but you’re working _for me_ you _wermo_ mando! Once you deal with the Red Titans, grab the stims and get _out with it_ , I’m not letting another shipment fall into those _schutta’s_ hands. Kill them then contact me. Wolesy Out.”

“ _Karking di’kut_.” Obi-wan muttered into the now deactivated comm. He turned to shoot some other merc that tried to use stealth to move up through the brief no-mans-land the firefight had created, and sighed. Just as it was turning into a relatively peaceful day, an _ambush_. For the love of  Hod Ha'ran, _something_ had it out for him, he just _knew it._

“Alright _Mikiyuna_ , ears up. Garret cover the left with blanket fire, _do not let up_. Kira with me, focus small arms on the far right stalagmite. Trevik, use your poison grenades at the centre. Na’hallas, cover him. Lets kill these _Stupa_ and get home.” Not for the first time, Obi-wan felt grateful that they all had comms, and _he_ had what would pass as small-unit militia training.

He waited, one beat, two beats… Now!

He quickly leaned out of his cover, blaster screaming at the right stalagmite. Garret, quick off the mark, followed half a beat later with blanket fire, which by the sounds of it, removed one _chakaar_ from the equation. Not fast enough that a brief blaster burn to Obi-Wan’s shoulder didn’t hit at the weak point between the plating, freezing his arm slightly. Kira, thankfully spotted this and fired a salvo closely behind, getting the arm of the poor bugger, with Nas’ almost obliterating the centre, with the characteristic _chink-clank_ of a metallic grenade.

And _three, two one…_

The hiss and accompanying gagging sounds, followed by six thumps told him that their enemies were down at least.

Thankfully, they had expensive-but useful – air filters built into their helmets – _and the Force, which always helps_ – while their opponents obviously didn’t.

That, was lucky. Any longer, and they’d have lost another crew-mate. Thankfully, only _desperate idiots_ would even think about using frag and poison grenades in enclosed spaces, especially if the integrity of the area was uncertain, but, using the Force and some intelligence, they were able to, barely, make it out.

“Ha ha. _Da tinka leah_ Ben. That was brilliant.” Chortled Na’hallas – or Nas to his friends – his furred hands gleefully tapping out a small rhythm on his rifle. The Bothan was always excited after a fight.

“No, it was stupid, and barely worked, thank Kiax we weren’t killed.” Kira grumbled, coming up to the bodies to inspect their handiwork and lighten the corpse’s load. “But” she begrudgingly allowed as she appropriated the blasters, “That was the best of a bad situation. Good plan, but it will probably kill us next time.”

“We’re alive, that’s what matters, thanks to the young one.” Garret, the zabrak came over, fondly cluncking Obi’s shoulder guards. Noticing his wince, the zabrak pulled out a medi-stim from his belt and handed it to the man he called ‘young one’.

“Can’t have a wincing Mandalorian with us when we get the deal, it’d ruin the whole intimidation image we have going.”

“Oh yes, I completely forgot, my only purpose here is to stand around and look menacing whilst his holiness Corvin completes the job via hologram. Lucky me.”

“Well we’ve already lost our wookie, so you’re now top of the intimidation list. If our big bad mando walks with a limp, we’ll be laughed out of the deal.”

Trevik ambled up, the zabrak, with a strange affinity for explosives began immediately searching the rest of the caves for any un-triggered tripwires or traps. On his all clear signal, the eclectic mix of a Correllian, Mando Bothan and the Zabrak pair, began moving through the larger, central tunnel.

Upon reaching a set of roughly hewn stairs leading to a small door that would open into an alleyway, the group paused and began checking their gear for any damage. It would do no good after all, to meet the client that would sell them a kark-load of stims looking battle-weary, that was _not_ the intimidation tactic they were using. The whole reason they had a mando and Zabrak pair, and their much lamented colleague Taraan, was to force the corporate double-dealer into a lower price range.

After informing Corvin, who began cursing the Red Titan’s to take a one-way trip to Kessel, he told them to go straight ahead whilst he changed into his ‘Noble Robes’ for the hologram meeting.

Whilst medical stims themselves were definitely NOT illegal, the large quantity they were planning to ship, could only be carried legitimately by registered medical transports. Enough medi-stims together, with a bit of clever thinking and syntho-chemistry that Obi Wan didn’t even pretend to understand, and surprisingly mediocre quality hallucinogenics, could be created and later sold. The beauty of it was, that the excuse of very much concentrated and specialised medication would actually stand up to scrutiny, so possession of _small_ quantities of ‘Synthstim’ wouldn’t actually get the possessor in too much trouble.

Of course, this wasn’t stated in the job description, which asked for a crew to transport a lot of stims at a disproportionately high price tag, to an old lab section on Belkadan. Only after their idiot of a captain accepted it, along with a selection of decidedly illegal alcoholic beverages as a ‘tip’, did the rest of the crew agree to the potentially illegal smuggling run.

Upon reaching the cantina, as agreed, the group split up and entered one at a time between groups of customers. Garett, Nas and Trevik all entered after around 10 standard minute intervals,

Obi-Wan entered along with Kira, and selected a not too grubby table near the centre of the room, not too far from the entrance. If this table was in the perfect view of the corner and side tables chosen by the others, well, that was just coincidence. Whilst Kira went to the bar to subtly get their client, Obi-Wan let his Force senses spill out, allowing him to at least _notice_ everybody in the cantina.

Before long, Kira returned with a rather mousey looking human in very carefully non-descript clothing. Obi Wan could just feel the nerves coming off him.

“So, this is my friend Bendak.” Kira muttered almost sweetly into the anxious human’s ears. All the more disconcerting with her scarred eye glaring at him. “Bendak, _this_ is our client…”

“T-Tomaso.”

“Hmm, yes, you did mention. Well, _he_ is being _very_ generous by giving us twenty five k-grams of med-stims for ten thousand credits.”

“Hey, I-I need to sell this for at least twenty, no way I could make a profit otherwise. And no one said _Mandos_ would be getting involved.”

Sometimes, the bloodthirsty stereotype of madalorians annoyed Obi-Wan. Other times, like this, the lazy stereotype of people that never looked beyond holo-dramas, came in useful.

“Unless these are _high quality_ med stims, and this girl _knows_ high quality, I do think you should reconsider your offer.”

A quick hand gesture, unnoticed by Tomaso, gave him the signal.

“Well, it seems we are at a _disagreement_. There are a few ways we could _settle_ this.” Obi Wan, under the distinctive helmet, put gruff emphasis on those particular words, and with a few movements to coincidently reveal an array of holstered blasters and knives on his armour, he continued “But first, such a _large_ quantity to be selling. Should we be worried that this will cause trouble for us. Because.” Obi wan continued, just as Tomaso was about to stutter an answer. “If it does, _we_ always find a way to _repay_ any transaction, on a like for like basis. You help us, we help you. It seems rather simple really”

Just as Kira was about to add her own thoughts, Tomaso suddenly appeared to grow a spine.

“Ha, you can’t threaten a legitimate citizen in a public place, how many cameras and witnesses are there here. No, my price stands – Actually I’ll raise it to twenty five thousand.”

Of course, that observation may have worked better if Tomaso didn’t allow Wolsey’s crew to choose the location.

 At that moment, just as Tomaso began to get a second wind, a human server came up.

“Ah, hello Kira, I thought I saw your face here. The usual my dear?” The man leaned over, sharing a smile with Kira, looking like an old friend.

“Oh of course Falin. And a small Savareen brandy for my friend here.” She indicated Tomaso, and carried on.

“Unfortunately Bendak wants to keep his head clear, so has to pass on your delightful selection.”

“A celebration? And you are not drinking my friend.” Falin turned to Obi-Wan, who gestured as if to say ‘well, what can you do?’

“Ah, I shall of course see to it, if there is anything we can help you with, it would be a pleasure.” And with that the server walked away.

Tomaso was, _hopefully_ , not stupid. The slight widening of his eyes made it clear.

“Oh and don’t try anything foolish like _running_ Tomaso my dear.” Kira really could have become a very good actress in a number of holodramas, as she gestured to the two tables steating the zabrak pair and Nas, both with an eyeline and position that any exit would pass by one of them closely.

“We have _lots_ of friends here.” And with that, both tables turned to stare directly at Tomaso.

Sweat was now cascading down Tomaso’s face, eyes frantically going back and forth. And to seal it off, at that moment, Obi-wan’s comm chimed. A short 5 inch  hologram of Corvin, in robes more befitting a minor lordling of alderaan, appeared.

“Ah Kira, punctual as ever. Have we finalised the deal, I have many impatient clients knocking on my door eager for this to work.”

Confronted with the presence of hardened mercenaries, a cantina willing to look the other way and now _nobility_ from the Core worlds was too much for Tomaso, he quickly caved to their twenty five k-grams at nine-thousand (“A lesson, Tomaso, _never_ leave a girl waiting, you won’t know what would happen to her prices.”), and their drinks arrived, a bitter ale for Kira and brandy for Tomaso, who rather shakily drunk to a ‘profitable deal’, before handing over the coordinates and keys to the warehouse, and following the mercenaries out of the cantina to pick up the goods.

Disguising the sealed stims as crates and generic rations, the crew made their way back to their ship ‘Sundered Desert’ in high spirits, packing the stims, still disguised, into lined-smuggling compartments, and enjoyed a taste of some highly fortified Vjun wines, illegal almost everywhere outside of Vjun itself and a handful of other systems.

“Heh heh, the poor karking _koochoo_.” Corvin Wolesy, a man entering the twilight of his prime, a hardened smuggler and gun-runner, actually _giggled_ when he heard the recounting of First Mate’s and Navigator’s plan.

“Bribing that server to make it look … HA ha.”

It had been Kira’s plan for intimidation by appearing to surround the table with their own men, but Obi Wan, recalling an _interesting_ mission with Siri Tachi, mentioned that bribing a single server to say a few vaguely friendly lines to Kira, would give a much more subtle but powerful message that the entire cantina, staff and all, were under their control. Of course the ruse would be discovered almost immediately afterwards if Tomaso had any intelligence, but their was the beauty of it. Out of sheer embarrassment, the man wouldn’t tell anyone, or at least embellish the story so that the crew looked more fearsome. And that would only help their reputation with some of the more established outfits.

After Obi Wan had entered the coordinates for their jump, and drunk his fair share, still under complaints that he just _didn’t seem to get drunk_ , he entered the comm room on the ship, essentially a glorified cupboard, he then made a call _home_.

“Hey _cyar’ika_ the job is nearly finished, give me another week and we’ll be five thousand credits richer.” He looked fondly at the blue hologram of perhaps his one true love.

“Oh Obi, as long as you are safe. As soon as you are finished, we’ll meet up on Tallek. Remember _ret’lini ganar kad ratiin_.”

The Mandalorian once known as Obi-Wan chuckled.

“That was one time Satine. I don’t think you’ll ever let me forget it.”

Mirth in her eyes, Satyne Kyrze, at that moment hunting a bounty in the Kooriva system, giggled and ended her comm call.

“ _Gar be’ner darasuum,_ Obi-Wan Kenobi.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Notes on characters:  
> You only become a smuggler if you are stupid or desperate. The stupid ones end up dead very quickly, or become desperate. The crew here may or may not have given their original names. Lying is as common as breathing for smugglers that skirt ever so close to the wrong side of the many many Galactic Laws.
> 
> Mando text:  
> shabuir/shab - idiot/moron (closest approximation for UK English is 'poor bugger')  
> aliit - family/clan (family is a very nebulous concept to a mando, blood isn't thicker than water to them)  
> alor - commander/leader/boss  
> dik’utla / dik'ut - stupid/useless  
> Karking - (I cannot in good conscience print this)  
> Mikiyuna - everyone  
> chakaar - bastard (lit. 'grave robber' which to a mando is much worse)  
> cyar’ika - darling/love (term of endearment)  
> ret’lini ganar kad ratiin - keep your weapon on you (long story, this will be detailed in another chapter...)  
> Gar be’ner darasuum - pledge of undying love and loyalty, essentially 'you are my forever' but a bit more


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ship-board life is, contrary to popular belief NOT as romantic or action-filled as one might expect.
> 
> Although with a crew like this, the odd explosion or gunfight isn't uncommon either...

[964:3:2] 7:30pm (1:47am on Vjun)

The Sundered Desert had barely jumped into hyperspace for a long trip, before Nas again pulled out his sabaac deck and offered to ransom back the other’s choicer beverages if he were beaten. Of course, a bluff like that just _had_ to be challenged.

“I’m _never_ going to play a Bothan as sabaac _again_.” Garret, one of their gunner pair, muttered once around the sabaac table.

 _I think I would agree with you on that, my friend._ Obi-Wan thought to himself. The Force was an almighty and powerful ally, capable of moving the largest obstacles, giving people superhuman abilities and on some planets, its wielders were worshipped as _gods_

 

… but useful for sabaac it was _not_.

It allowed Obi-wan to get an impression of his table-mates emotions, so he could infer the quality of their hand, but the karking Bothan seemed to have the _same emotive response_ to every card, all the time.

Still, proper Rhen Var ale wasn’t to be taken lightly, and Obi-Wan wanted his _back_ , if only to hold over the others as proof of his ability in sabaac. The crew, however, foolishly bet drinks that they clearly could not do without, evidenced by their almost desperate movements towards the table. Even Kira, glaring everyone, still bitter over her loss of Corellian Ale to Obi-Wan, and sweet-meats to Nas the last time they played, grudgingly moved forward. Of course, they weren’t foolish enough to bet credits, that would just create bad feelings among the group and lead to all kinds of petty disputes they could do without.

A dice roll later, and Trevik was the dealer, and therefore the arbiter of the variant of sabacc to be played, and the playing positions of the crew were similarly decided.

“Correllian Rules.” He grinned, a rather terrifying sight to those that did not know the zabrak well. He punctuated the remark by throwing down a pair of dice and waited for the Garret to pick them up as the first player.

 

[964:3:2] 9:00pm (3:17am on Vjun)

“You cheated, you _wermo_! How can you get 2 Idiot’s without cheating, you’re _not_ getting my Vjun wine.”

“Ah, all in the luck of the draw and the skill of the player. Of course the intelligence required to pull of such a move renders it incomprehensible to many others.”

“What are you implying _Bothan?!”_

“Merely that without knowing the move from the start, almost everyone would be confound – “

At this point, an irate Garret reached across to snatch back his wine, at the same time Nas tried to quickly take it from their modified ‘pot’.

Obi-Wan rather swiftly decided to sit back and engage Trevik in a discussion, all of the crew having seen variants of this argument, and partaken in it, often enough to leave the two at it. It was quite funny though, Obi-Wan always thought whenever another argument broke out, that a Jedi would be taught to persuade the two to split the bottle, or if they had a Vjun wine bottle on hand, to give it to either Nas or Garret.

But what they would fail to understand, that all smugglers and ner-do-wells knew, was that this was just chest-banging, a declaration of victory or commiseration of defeat, whose steps must be followed accordingly, akin to a ritual. Indeed, any offer of placating one of the two may just send the argument spiralling out of control, delay it for a later date, or result in an argument with the proposer.

He was not fond of generalisations, but, Obi-Wan realised, if that same logic was applied to the galaxy at large, it would help explain why so many ‘successful’ Jedi missions were, a few years later, seemingly undone at the drop of a hat by the natives of each planet, or why certain solutions were shot down with such vitrol in some cases, especially if the Jedi in question were to propose a ‘solution’ in perfect accordance with Republic regulations, without understanding _the culture of the planet xe landed on, especially if, as was want to occur, the Jedi believed themselves to be_ the authority on establishing the solution. Of course, Jedi like that were few and far between, but a single bad apple would spoil a whole barrel, or so the old Catalanian proverb went.

Simultaneously as this thought process, and it’s implications, were consuming the Mando, Trevik, who funnily enough, upon recognizing a similar ‘philosopher-slash-warrior’ in Benak, now frequently engaged him in surprisingly deep discussions, ranging from politics to morality and free will. After all, there was only so often the back-and-forth of sabacc arguments could be observed without becoming somewhat tedious, each of the crew had rather quickly found other interests to soak up the seemingly never ending time between jobs.

Which, if he was honest with himself, provided just as valuable a learning experience as the political or planetary culture classes within the Temple. As well as allowing him to make a little extra on the side with solving rather complex problems in the holonet to keep him sharp.

It wasn't too long until their resident navigator was called up to the cockpit. The ageing systems on their craft required rather more oversight from its crew than some of the newer models, particularly as the nav computer was prone to mis-calculating the relative masses and velocities of certain planetary orbits, pulling them out of hyperspace at random points, or, in one memorable case, nearly ontop of a small asteroid. The small laundry had its work cut out after that event, and the crew were much more dillagent with their navigation after that, and they subsequently gave Obi-Wan much more respect, and allowed their 'navvy' to call the shots on some jobs.

“'Ben, sort out the navicomputer, I think its trying to reroute us into some black hole.” Corvin, unfortunately, couldn't get his head around the complexities of astronavigatoin, and would call up the Mando to double and triple check the routes planned, frequently interrupting a sabacc game.

“Yes, that was me Boss. Don't worry, I heard that there were a number of raids along the Dashu corridor, so it'll be safer if we take the other route.” Of course, he didn't mention that the 'raids' were in fact another facet of the Death Watch-Protector war that had spread out from Mandalore, with each side trying to gain an advantage and disrupt the other's weapons shipments or operating bases.

The captain grumbled, obviously unhappy that a crucial piece of information had been witheld from him.

“Tell me about it next time _koochoo,_ I can't make decisions if my crew don't tell me things. We'll need to delay by another 3 days. Gunthor won't be happy with us.”

“Getting there late is preferable to getting there soon in little pieces don't you think Boss?”

“Warning me of route changes would be even better, _Mando_.”

And that, rather succinctly encompassed why Obi-Wan _didn't_ inform the captain of the route change, as the argument of _potentially_ running into a firefight without any _real_ weapons wasn't nearly a good enough reason for Corvin to delay his run and tarnish his image as a reliable captain.

“Right Boss. If we ever need to take shortcuts like that, I'd recommend fitting this box with at least some halfway decent weapons, maybe some shielding.”

“Yes, yes. It'd be a blessing if we could find someone to fix the damn navcomputer though.” The captain the proceeded to kick said navcomputer, as if to make the components aware of his disdain for them.

“You know we'll find a charitable Hutt before we find some _karking_ techie able to keep quiet _and_ fix the entire navicomputer and other networks on this box.”

“Stop calling the ship a damn BOX.”

“Well, boss, it ain't a rancor, sorry to disappoint.” Kira walked into the cockpit to pick up her rations.

“Damnit Kira, don't encourage this moron. We get to the lab, around the more _sceinic route_ our navvy has plotted, get our payment, and leave. That is that, now, _any questions_.”

“Nope.”

“Not at the moment.”

Well, honestly, it wasn't like they hadn't pulled off jobs like this before. The only difference was the man they were meeting, Gunthor, was somehow related to Black Sun activities- in a sort of, vague, nebelous way. At least, that was all the information the crew could gather. Meaning that whoever they were working for could at least afford a decent crew to hide the details.

The implications of which led to 'many nights of lost sleep' according to Corvin.

Although, that was perhaps the flimsiest lie Obi Wan had ever been told, and _he'd_ been teaching younglings of 8-10 standard years in _astronavigation_. He knew, and more importantly, the entire _crew_ knew, that aside from himself, Corvin cared about; money, his box, and Kira, in descending order, the rest of the crew ranked somewhere between batha shit and discarded flimsiplast.

“Good. Now make yourselves useful, Kira, get check on the stims, Ben, get Trevik to prep the rifles and Nas to keep on top of the detenators. If things go arse-up, we're gonna need a way out.”

One did not need to posess the force, or even knowledge of the various cartells to know that a _bad feeling_ didn't quite describe the atmosphere leading up to this particular meet.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for the delay, RL got in the way abit...


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Five years after leaving the order, Apprentice and Master are reunited.

968:9:21 9:35pm (around 4:45pm on Tatooine in Mos Espa)

After telling, a heavily edited, version of the past three weeks, Qui Gon dearly wished he could see through that helmet, just to see his old apprentice's expression.

As if he understood the unspoken request, the mandalorian removed his helmet, revealing Obi Wan's face, slightly roughened, no doubt by stress and conflict in the past five years, and with a trimmed beard, giving the man an air of gravitas.

“So, let me get this straight Mas- _Qui Gon_.” Both men grinned at the near slip, although in Qui-Gon’s case it was rather watery.

“You just bet, the _future of an entire planet_ on an illegal podrace, on a slave who _hadn’t even finished a race before now_ , because you had a _hunch_. To repair your ship.” Obi-Wan looked torn between laughing and reprimanding the older man, and that brought back so many memories of their missions together, frequently where Obi-Wan developed his rather dry sense of humour. Qui Gon then, in a rather foolish move that even the youngest of Padawans were swiftly trained out of, lost himself in memories for a brief time.

“…was probably the most ridiculous thing you’ve ever done, _including_ that time on Felucia.”

His old Padawan's once famed composure and stoic mask slipped, at least for those who knew him well, a gauntlet of emotions displayed in his posture and expression. The most prominent, and those that Qui Gon had the most experience with, was bemusement tempered with shock. Well it was good to know that he still lived up to the _Maverick Jedi_ moniker.

It was then he made his crucial mistake. He tried to argue that his plan was logical and necessary.

 

“Oh.” came the scoff. “ _No, Qui Gon,_ you can _not_ justify that. How many missions, how many _favours_ have you done for untold dozens of groups. Surely one of them would be around, even a mind trick or two to get the credits, hells, even _sabbacc_.”

The stress put on that final word, there was a _story_ behind that, he knew. But unfortunately, now was not the time.

“Even, well, you still have my old comm details, and I haven't changed it.”

“On the run from perhaps the largest trading conglomerate this side of the correlian run, we had to taake precautions with communications Pad...”

Now Qui Gon _did_ let his stoic facade slip, showing his regret, even brielfy to his erstwhile Padawan. Oh how often did their missions delve into this familiar back and forth, it was almost too easy to forget the last few years. However, he was not a Jedi Master for nothing, and quickly got his emotions back under control.

“And the distance would not have allowed a personal comlink through, you would need a Senate-level comlink to communicate across planets.” Of course, that was conveniently forgetting that almost any high ranking personel spacecraft was fitted with similar comms, or that they were, if not widely available, then at least not uncommon in the black markets of various sectors.

“Master, do you truly believe that I, let alone _Satine, wouldn't_ have such a comlink on our ship, or that a _Jedi consular negotiator_ wouldn't, as matter of course, have one on their own ship. She is the daughter of one of the Eldars, _you_ are a Jedi Master. Of course we would have access to that level of technology. And, unless you've forgotten almost everything of _that mission_ , you would've seen a number of mandalorians bearing sigils from clan Esok, Clan Kyrze's traditional _allies_ , they would've gotten a message to me, _covertly_ seeing as I am a member of the clan itself.”

“ _Oh,_ so it it Obi Wan _Kyrze_ or is is Satine _Kenobi_.”

“It's actually Ben Kenobi of Clan Kyrze.” the Mandalorian began sheepishly. “Mandalorians pride themselves on clan heirarchies. I swear not even the _Graikos_ have such obscure clan relations.”

“So an alias, your surname and a clan name. You don't make it easy to track you down I must say.”

Another scoff, this one slightly more amused than the last. “ _Oh Qui Gon_ , if you knew _half_ of my aliases, you would think I'd been recruited as a Shadow. I believe we've gotten off topic though, I think you were talking about how the _elected Queen of Naboo_ agreed to your _plan_.”

“Strictly speaking, that statement is not completely correct.”

“Semantics.”

It was amusing for the Jedi Master to see a mental double take from his old Padawan, a brief twitch of his left eye, slight raising of his right elbow as if to see and catch the words to examine them.

“ _Wait._ You _did_ tell someone of this plan and get approval? This is, albeit contrived, _a negotiation mission_ for all intents and purposes _,_ you cannot impose yourself directly, except to save lives, _without approval_ of one of the parties involved or the Councils.”

“This timely action has no doubt saved many Nubian lives on their home planet.” Oh Obi Wan, always a stickler for the rules.

“You can't be sure, and have stepped out of the initial parameters. You know that this requires a covert combat oriented team, maybe even a Shadow, not a Jedi trained as a _Diplomat_.”

Conveniently forgetting that _'war is an extension of diplomacy'_ or vice versa, depending what sort of Jedi you asked, thought Qui Gon.

“You seem to be forgetting that _we_ repeatedly engaged in planetary disputes between factions.”

“Yes Mas- Qui Gon. But that was confined to individual planets and served to _directly_ impede the outbreak of wider hostilities, where the politics would not be best served with local protectors in their _local system_. It was always on a much smaller scale, one that the Diplomatic branch, especially _our_ branch, had trained for. A planet-wide proxy war-in-all-but-name requires the Operations branch, and with much better understanding of the politics where they _need_ direct intervention, not localised defence and diplomacy. Remember Melina/Daan, where I strayed from the branch and the Jedi overall.”

_That_ was a low blow.

“Not to mention, one of the largest plasma exporters being in conflict with perhaps the largest trading body in the Galaxy, bringing her to Hutt-controlled space where its high ranking members can – _and will_ – be used to extort ridiculous tarrifs and agreements...”

“Exactly the reason I couldn't reach out for help.”

“Surely _landing a Republic diplomatic shuttle_ would've attracted their interest far more than a few discreet enquireys. Although since I've had no word of any Republic diplomatic ship landing, you must've hidden it well, so I suppose entering one of the largest podraces in the Arkanis sector as a _sponsor_ was more of a lapse of judgement.” But upon seeing the look, the same one honed by Padawans, perfected by Knights, and despaired of by Masters, of _ah, how do I explain the fact I've just gone exactly against what you've just said, but am trying to save face_.

If he wasn't busy trying to break it to … the younger man, that, his diplomatic shuttle was, in fact, no more, Qui Gon would've laughed at the reversal, where the _Master_ was trying to pull of the look on the not-quite-Padawan. As it was, the older man was far too busy thinking up an explainaiton.

“ _Please_ tell me you have your ship _._ ”

“It seems to have fallen victim to the aggression of the Trade Federation I'm afraid to say.”

“Wait, so if you wern't racing for some 'repairs' to your diplomatic shuttle, what the hells were you racing for?”

A scuff quickly brought both men's attention to the shorter mando, with Qui Gon internally berating himself for letting his senses fail, he was _still_ on a hutt controlled world, so constant vigilance was a _must_ , surprise meeting or no.

“Ba'vodu, mhi linibar tsikador koor.” The distinctly femanine voice, even with the helmet muffling it somewhat could be fainly heard. Qui Gon assumed that it was only meant to be heard by Obi Wan, but due to his own force-enhanced hearing, he could pick it up as well.

“Ah, my apologies _Qui Gon_.” The slight emphasis was not lost on the older man, who suspected it was for the other mando's benefit. He checked his own chrono then. “I'll see you around here later, say one standard hour?”

“If you want to meet, it'd be easier if it were outside the Bazzar on the side closest to the rock formations.”

“Ah, I'll comm you then. “

And with that, both Mandalorians left out the side door built in one of the many winding passages of the hall, and Qui Gon was, once again, alone with his thoughts, before remembering that he had a meeting with a slave owner. It was rather embarassing really, almost the entire point of the podrace and betting the ship was to test the boy's connection to the Force, it wouldn't do forgetting to sort out those promises.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mandalorian:  
> Ba'vodu, mhi linibar tsikador koor (roughly): Uncle, we need to get ready to complete the contract  
> (Mandalorian, being a language that many beings of different species and ages would need to learn as a second, if not third or fourth language, is, by necessity, relatively simple, doing away with superfluous phrases, where the meaning of a sentence is understood with context. So the phrase above literally translates to 'Uncle, we need prepare contract', this also gives it the advantage of acting as a sort of code, where without understanding of the context and (potentially) prior conversations, the words could mean something different altogether.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi Wan and Ruusan left Qui Gon to complete a job, a relatively simple affair... 
> 
> Why can't things ever be straightforward on a dustbowl like Tatooine?!

968:9:21 9:55pm (around 5:05pm on Tatooine in Mos Espa)

“Meg kaysh, ba'vodu?”

“Udesii ad'ika. Kaysh burc'ya, ori'vod, buir. I don't think we'll be overheard here.”

Obi Wan's switch to Basic hopefully reassured his companion that all was well. At least that was the hope.

Seeing Ru with her arms crossed and stopping near a bench, Obi Wan had to quickly reconsider that assessment however.

“Who _was_ he, you don't speak about _before_ with anyone but _Ba'vodu_ Satine. Could he be a threat to yo-our op?”

it was times like this Obi Wan was glad his shielding was second to none, seeing his niece get defensive over him, even though she was barely sixteen and knew him all of five years, spoke of the depth of mandalorian devotion to family.

“He, well, even the best start slipping, and he's made mistakes that, five years ago wouldn't have even entered his head as possibilities. He just risked a significant mission, not to mention political clout, on a _hunch_. This isn't looking too good.”

“Well you'd know better than most how _ruug dirycire_ _mirdaler_.”

He could tell Ruusan was grinning.

“ _Mir'sheb._ I'm not even ten years older than you.”

“Yes but you did walk into the spaceport, and completely forgot what you went in for, and had to walk back out, if _that's_ not a sign of _ruug_ I don't know what is.” She was openly giggling now, but to anyone else, who couldn't hear the conversation, it just looked like one mandalorian nodding vigorously to the other. Say what you liked about mandalorians, but they had armour-wearing and hiding expressions down to pat.

Letting a small groan escape into the comlink, purely to keep his _vod'ad_ laughing, both made their way toward their target, a small-time gambler and slicer who, on receiving a sudden windfall, from stealing spice out of Nar Shaadar, decided to sponsor a racer and place a number of bets, specifically to members of Gardulla's inner circle, which he then kept back on technicalities. That sort of insolence could not go unpunished, although, funnily enough, it was the crime of 'insolence' towards a Hutt that caused Gardulla to hire them, the fact the bounty she would take would be a spice thief was just a bonus. While Obi-Wan was usually in favour of annoying the Hutts, in order to keep his 'long game' going, he needed an in with this particular section of the cartel. And so, he, along with his niece, accepted a job which, under any other circumstances, they would, if not avoid, then actively help the other party involved.

“Here we are, _ruung'la ja,_ One lazy di'kutla slicer. I'll let you do the talking, Twi'lek scum like him won't be intimidated by the 'weaker species' even if I am _veman dala_.” He could almost _hear_ the grin in her words.

The room was occupied by the slicer, a slave, what looked like a gambling buddy, a mechanic, and an unhappy masseuse. Well, time for some crowd control, he thought.

“Not to worry. If he says anything unsavory to us, you can give him a _marevmurey'ca_.”

Switching to his 'gruff mando voice' as Devin called it, Obi Wan let his Force presence extend, this had the effect of catching nearby beings attention, and gave him an 'aura of power' not dissimilar to that experienced by cadets seeing an officer walk towards them.

“No, _you_ stay exactly where you are.” The mechanic and slave managed to clear out fast enough, obviously knowing when to run, the masseuse let out a small shriek and hid herself in the corner, lekku coiling tightly, however, the slicer and his buddy weren't quite fast enough, a blaster pointed in their direction by Ruusan somewhat hindered their willingness to execute sudden movements, not that they weren't stupid enough to try and move.

“I think we are due a discussion, my friend, about your recent bets with Gardulla. Specifically payment amounting to six thousand credits and three nova crystals.” Of course, the sum was composed of peggats and truggats mainly, but it was so much easier to convert everything into standard credits, that way everybody knew where they stood.

“Now now, hehe, my most esteemed colleagues.” The male twi'lek began, obviously hoping his tongue was as fast as his fingers. “We don't need to cause any more distress, or damage, than already exists, I'm sure that, as your employer owns this establishment, any damage would come out of your pay, so lets not be hasty, yes?”

Although looking appropriately terrified of two mandalorians, one pointing a blaster, the other exuding a sense of ' _don't mess with me'_ , his buddy, stupidly, pulled out a shiv and went for the masseuse, probably hoping, again somewhat stupidly, that the mandalorians wouldn't shoot him if he had a hostage.

Well, of course Obi Wan, and by extension, Ruusan, would never deliberately kill an innocent, and anyway, it was  _unprofessional_ for a mandalorian to leave collateral damage like that, but _he_ couldn't know that, making his actions truly desperate.

Fortunately Ruusan was second only to Satine when it came to blasters, and quickly kneecapped the poor shab.

“Don't even think about it.” She growled over the screams of the shabuir. However, the bucket could not disguise the high pitch of her voice, even if her tone and armour appeared masculine, it gave the overall effect of her sounding like she was an adolescent boy.

“Ah,” the twi'lek's eyes took on a glint, he turned, uncaring of his friend's whimpers, or the abject horror on the massuse's face, “You brought your son to a job. Now whilst I understand keeping it in the family, don't you think one as young as he may be be in _undue_ danger?”

A quick hand-signal stopped Ru from correcting the scum. Anyone that even hinted at threatening his _aliit_ was swiftly corrected, and this Twi'lek, a slave owner, conman, and one who entertained the thought of threatening _his clan,_ was now place on his mental 'fair game' list.

“Soran, a word of advice, you want to reach next cycle alive, _don't_ threaten a mando. _Now_ ” injecting venom into his voice, as rippling his force presence, a very handy trick courtesy of Mace Windu, gave the three di'kut a spike of fear. “You _will_ hand over the _eight_ thousand credits and three nova crystals. Or we take you to Gardulla and rip all of your assets as expenses incurred.” The slight increase in price was a trick learned from Kira, the next slight twist in the force, just enough for the sensitive lekku to pick up, was from Aayla Securra, these, combined with the green-gold mando moving forward and pulling out a knife, forced both twi'lek to shiver and in Soran's case, immediately comply.

“ _Ah,_ yes yes, please, take it just get away _._ ” Soran had clearly had enough of the Force-induced terror and flung over a datapad with ten thousand wupiupi.

“The _rest_ , one thousand two hundred credits, _and the nova crystals_ , although I may accept their worth in credits, if you ask nicely.” He decided to be generous and forget the extra two thousand credits.

“Tha-That's three _thousand_ trugats, along with the wupiupi I just gave you.” Quickly wanting someone to take the fall, Soran rapidly gestured to his fallen companion. “Yes, yes, _Tarunda_ has the remaining credits, I lost a sabaac game.”

“As well as thirty or so smaller bets, _huut'un_.” This came from Ru's comm, obviously she was still annoyed by the scum's earlier remark.

“A-and the nova, well, I spent it on _this_ beauty here.” Now he pointed at the horrified Twi'lek girl. “you can have _her_ in lieu of the nova, and _she's very good_ , if you catch my drift.”

That more than anything sparked Ru off. A blaster bolt, low powered but enough to burn, hit Soran's left lekku, and he let out a peal of agony, which even the masseuse winced in sympathy at, and turned this time to Ru and tried to curl herself even smaller.

Obi Wan knew why she did that, the twi'lek in question looked similar to Mayala, one of her friends on Corellia, who was barely surviving until Clan Kyrze had stepped in. Nevertheless, he had to remove Ru's apparent defence of the Twi'lek in-case one of the scumbags tried to use her as a hostage, knowing that it would actually _work_.

“I think your incessant chatter has irritated my colleague, who dislikes being called out on his youth. I can assure you.” he continued over the screaming, using the force to ensure that his voice was heard by both cowering males, another handy trick, “that if you don't pay up, we _will_ perform a thorough search of your properties to account for time wasted here, now, as you've insulted my colleague, and hurt my ears, I think we'll take your rather nice ship in compensation. A YN Class 720, _very nice_.”

“No, _no please_ , not my baby, _not my Lucky Strike._ ”

“Oh, would you prefer if we informed other parties about the shipment of missing spice, I'm sure that can be arranged.”

The cartel Soran had duped was particularly vicious, nothing compared to a Hutt, but vicious still, so whilst drawing out such a barrage of extreme emotion should've worried him, Obi Wan could see nothing but a slaver, a conman, and a _threat to the clan_. And seeing such a man brought low, especially knowing that Gardulla would pay extra to witness the humiliation of a potential rival, did nothing to stop him.

“I have _cargo_ in that ship that I can pay you for, you can use that, please.” The Twi'lek, once right hand man to a minor crime lord on Nar Shadaa, with a repulsive list of crimes to his name, a monster by any other word, resorted to _begging_ in his own snot and drool for mercy.

“And _what_ is the cargo?”

“Three slaves, a human, a mon cal and a toruga. _Please,_ take them, and this one, but leave me my ship.”

Three slaves, at least thirty thousand credits worth, enough to pay for the nova, and the terrified masseuse, who alone would fetch at least twenty thousand credits. That would pay off the gambling debts with interest. With any luck, Soran may have found himself reprieve from both the thieving _and_ gambling problems.

“Right, you give us the detonator controls for this one,” he gestured, however ill it made him feel, to the twi'lek masseuse, “and take us to your ship.”

after getting his friend, who showed at least a mote of intelligence and stayed still and mostly quiet throughout the process, and passing Obi Wan the detonator, he shakily led both mandos out to the docking bay.

“I don't know whether to cheer or be sick at that ba'vodu.” the small voice from Ru quickly prompted Obi Wan to reassure her.

“We have liberated four slaves, and completed the contract.”

“We're still missing the nova though.”

“Don't worry, I can deal with that.”

The ragtag group made their way to the bay, with Obi-Wan, now more than ever, fervently wishing that he could improvise his way out of _this one_.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As this is told from Obi's POV, Ruusan is shortened to Ru, this may get confusing in later chapters with certain characters having internal nicknames for others that different characters do not, I'll try to keep this to a minimum, but I think it adds to the depth of the story, so it'll stay in.
> 
> And yes, Obi hasn't transformed into an evil mando, he is playing a long game
> 
> *rant incoming*
> 
> (one thing I dislike about Clone Wars (books mainly, as I know keeping stuff kid-friendly on TV is needed) is that it follows the (good guys do short term good things, therefore only good things happen, neutral guys to bad thing to try and lead to good thing, but they are scorned by others) trope, where the whole 'ends justify the means' doesn't seem to apply (at least, not with the Jedi), where some of the Extended Universe books actually delved into this, as well as the fact that, as massive war, is not a nice clean thing without bloodshed or trauma)
> 
> *rant over*
> 
> Mandalorian:
> 
> “Meg kaysh, ba'vodu?” : Who was he uncle?  
> “Udesii ad'ika. Kaysh burc'ya, ori'vod, buir." : Calm down little one, He was a friend, a brother in arms, a mentor and father figure."


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Why do simple jobs always get exponentially complex in the Outer Rim?

968:9:21 10:25pm (around 5:35pm on Tatooine in Mos Espa)

“Here we are, my friends, my _Lucky Strike_ and all her cargo.” The Twi'lek's voice became oily now, a mixture of knowing how badly he was outmatched and pure terror.

As the ramp lowered, Obi-Wan could feel the desperation rolling out of the ship. In the force, he had the distinct impression of at least one child, and maybe two older beings, although the wash of sheer fright drowned most of this out. It was only the fact that, after spending so long in the Outer Rim, that filtering out terror was almost second nature to him.

The twi'lek walked in first, Obi Wan behind him, and Neejala and Ru behind himself. When Soran palmed open one of the smuggling doors, Obi Wan could see exactly what he feared.

 _Three_ children. The one with the most terror, and appearing, in the Force at least, most like a child, was barely six years old and looked male, with his face giving almost no clues due to the child burying it in their grimy arms as soon as the door opened.

The other two, maybe ten standard years, a mon cal and female toruga, although they could be anywhere between ten and sixteen with potential malnutrition, shapeless clothing, and hunched figures making it difficult to accurately know without confirmation or DNA testing. The most heartbreaking thing though, was that, in the Force, they had both lost the innocence of children, both echoing with trauma and pain more often associated with a PTSD-suffering veteren.

“There we are, one male, two female. These're worth at least a thousand peggats. More than enough to settle my outgoings.”

“We _need_ to get them out of here _ba'vodu_.” Ru's voice firmly came through on his bucket.

“Yes, I'm _working on it_ , this will take time. Search the rest of this wreck, _anything_ at all that we can use to make up the lost creds.”

“ _Nari_.” And with that, the red-black clad mando moved further into the ship, quelling surprised mummers with the end of her blaster. The gambling buddy, Gorran, became mercifully silent, obviously _not_ wanting his other leg damaged.

“Children, males especially think they can go off wherever, am I right.” Of course, if the Twi'lek _wanted_ to build anything like a rapport with his loan-shark-slash-captors, he would be _much better off_ never mentioning his niece at all. “I always found slaves much more obedient.”

At this point, _not_ strangling the twi'lek with his own lekku was proving beyond difficult, even if he kept glancing around nervously.

_I am a Jedi, not a mindless killer, I am a Jedi not a mindless killer, I am a Jedi..._

The mental litany helped to restrain his, well Darker, impulses. It was getting more and more difficult to remember why he wasn't doing the galaxy a service by ending the _sheb_ though.

“ _Ori've'veut._ Hidden by the only escape pod, around quarter a k-gram of spice, not sure what, pile of creds, three crystals and one weird remote. I'd guess anywhere between twenty to eighty peggats at a push.”

“Good enough, bring it up. You need a hand _ad'ika_.”

“We could use Neua.”

“The Twi'lek?”

“ _No,_ the shabla rancor hiding in the cockpit. _Of course_ the Twi'lek.” The distinct huff, known to many parents and family members attempting to raise a teenage humanoid, suddenly cut off. “Wait, you didn't ask for her name?”

“I was a bit busy making sure our _mirci'te_ didn't peg it the first chance they got.”

“ _Still, ba'vodu...”_

“ _N'eparavu takisit_ , I was a bit busy, I'll sort it out later.” Obi Wan gestured to the masseuse who, up until this point, had stayed as unobtrusive as possible in yet another corner. “Can you go to my friend, he's just in the room by the cockpit.”

Probably saying it in Basic was a mistake, Soran immediately tried to go for his hidden blaster pistol, completely forgetting that during their walk over to the ship, Ru had taken it from him. Coming up empty handed, he then took the next option, attacking a fully armoured mandalorian with a vibroknife, from a small alcove, a move that, personally, Obi Wan thought, was more indicative of madness than any psychological test.

Quickly ducking the clumsy blow, the mandalorian grabbed the Twi'lek's flailing arm, and a simple _twist and push,_ so that Soran was forced to his knees, tears of pain crawling down his face.

“ _eep!”_

“ _Shut it,_ you're lucky nothing's broken, try something like that again, and I'll kneecap you.” At this point, Gorran gave an involuntary huff, probably in sympathy for what was about to happen to his colleague, but, thankfully still choosing to remain draped over the corner. Honestly, he though Aqualish were supposed to be stronger than that.

The only response from Soran was a pained whimper. A small scurrying noise told him that the masseuse had followed his order and was going to help Ru.

Spotting a conviniently empty cage, Obi Wan tried not to think about the implications of that and Neua, Soran and Gorran were shoved in, somewhat painfully judging by the gasps and suppressed groans.

“Right _,_ got the stuff, spice is in container held by Neua, creds in my pouch, crystals in my belt pack, I'm coming back.”

A few seconds later, the scuffling of boots and bare feet announced the arrival of the female portion of the group.

“ _Karking poodo Ben,_ what happened here.” He couldn't tell if it was shock or glee in her voice at seeing the two gamblers locked up. “You do know that _you'll_ need to separate them out for Gardulla right, cos I'm not getting in there?!” another huff of laughter followed.

“Thanks for taking pity on your dear uncle, Ru'ika, but our friend _Gorran Eclar, alias Konnor Delshav,_ is actually _also_ wanted by Gardulla for being a non-Hutt-sanctioned fence on Mos Espa's black market, so”

“Two mynocks, one bolt. Nice one _ba'vodu_.”

“Where did you slot the remote, _ad'ika_?”

The sudden appearance of the remote in her right hand, and now he was regretting having Alyssa teach her sleight of hand.

“Catch!”

Grabbing the spinning remote, Obi Wan looked at it, and grinned. Striding over to the rather full cage, Obi Wan put on another 'interrogation show' as Ru would call it.

“Right, I'm assuming _this_ ,” he held the remote close to the Twi'lek's face “is the control to bring down the cages. If it _is,_ nod your heads.” frantic nodding from Soran. Good. “now, I will bring down each cage, one at a time, if you even _think_ about moving, I will _gut you_. Are. We. Clear.” more frantic head bobbing. “Good.”

And with that, the cage containing the toruga dropped, with nothing but a whimper from its occupant, with no attempt to move except to curl up smaller, and in the Force, their terror spiked so much that the feedback even caused Obi Wan to feel anxious.

“Right, now, releasing the second cage.”

The cage holding the mon cal opened, but this time, the being threw themselves on the floor, either as a silent plea or an expression of submission, or even, and he nearly recoiled at this, a conditioned response. It was probably the last option that was the most likely, as In the force, the emotional feedback from the cage's occupant remained the same.

“OK. Releasing the final cage.” He _hoped_ the younger child would have some sort of reaction, he didn't know what he'd do, _how slowly you'll wring their necks you mean?_

That little instinct, the gut feeling to just _rage_ , that was the reason he kept up the littany, he _knew_ that power was like a drug, addicting and, if not managed, if it ever could be, destructive.

The final cage dropped, and maybe he _shouldn't_ have hoped for a reaction.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick note, yes I will be jumping back and forth in time in later chapters to properly highlight politics, warfare, criminality and all sorts that a linear storyline would be too complex for (despite my best efforts, this isn't quite Game of Thrones level complexity - I'm not getting paid enough for that! :-) )
> 
> Mando:
> 
> Nari : moving/doing it  
> sheb : arse (or ass if you prefer)  
> Ori've'veut : lot of money here  
> N'eparavu takisit : I'm sorry


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poor Obi-Wan, nothing ever goes quite as planned...

968:9:21 10:45pm (around 5:55pm on Tatooine in Mos Espa)

With a feral scream, the child leapt at Neua, somehow, and till his dying day, he will _swear_ the Force was involved, getting the vibroknife from the floor and lunging _in a single motion_ , faster than Ru could intercept, her bulky armour was _not_ conductive to rapid movement.

Obi Wan was still shocked, how a terrified child could move that quickly and so, wasted a precious second thinking before his instincts kicked in, but then, it was too late.

Twisting mid lunge, the child slipped behind the twii'lek, who quickly lifted her arms, keeping the cargobox out of reach of the child. Unfortunately, that meant that, on striking the Twi'lek in the back of the knee, _faster_ than Obi Wan thought possible without the Force, Neua yelped and let go of the box. Although Ru must've impressed on her its importance, as she vainly spasmed her other leg out to cushion the landing. Although, and _thank the Force_ for small mercies, the vibroknife was _not_ buried in the Twi'lek's knee, still in the hand of the fleeing boy.

This resulted in two things in rapid succession,

The masseuse toppled sideways, the box landing on her thigh and then her foot before hitting the floor with a crash even as Ru tried to grab it herself, startling the other two slaves, and eliciting a whimper from the toruga,.

The boy, who _must've been Force sensitive to be that quick_ , moved _with_ the falling Twi'lek, using her body as a shield as he scampered out to the ramp.

Obi Wan staggered forward, but the tangle of limbs in the doorway lost him precious seconds before he could get out of the room. At the speed the child was running, he would never be able to catch up.

Although, that was without factoring in the cruelty of slavers.

He found him curled on the ground, just outside of the exit ramp, rolled into a ball in a vain attempt to protect herself, eyes clenched shut, trying desperately to suppress shrieks of pain, arms occasionally spasming out of control.

Repeated jolts of electricity to the spine would do that.

Quickly moving towards the bundle, deliberately _not_ sensing his emotions in the force, he moved to pick him up, figuring that this system was put in after an escape attempt by _other slaves_ transported using this very ship. The thought again fed that _rage._

Trying to pick up the boy, who made a few efforts throughout the pain to desperately swing the vibroknife at the oncoming mandalorian. Unfortunately for him, it bounced off the beskar-durasteel alloy harmlessly, and in the child's weakened grip, it quickly fell out of his hand, despite his fingers trying to grasp awkwardly, fighting against the current running through him.

Obi Wan immediately grabbed the boy, and pulled him back inside the craft, which seemed to stop the shocks. The boy immediately sagged against the chestguard, clutching onto the armoured being that made the shocks go away, openly sobbing now.

“ _Udesii_ , _udesii_ , shh now.” obi wan muttered in the child's chin, the bucket and angle the child wrapped himself on him made it difficult to turn his head fully. He sent soothing waves of calmness in the force, hoping that it would go some way to relaxing the child.

Turning around, Ru was halfway out the doorway, with Neua holding the box close to her, both keeping a wary eye on the other slaves. Ensuring the slaves wouldn't make another break for 'freedom', Ru turned toward Obi Wan.

“Kark, sorry _ba'vodu_ , I really messed up. _Shab_ , what happened!!”

“Not to worry, I doubt any of us expected one so young to make such a passioned break for it. He's just recovering from an nasty anti-escape protocal.” The child's sobs were reduced by his bucket, so he could still hear Ru whilst repeatedly sending calming waves to the boy, who, still held onto him like a lifeline.

“Right, the spice and creds, we get to the Hutt.” Obi Wan thought for a second, deciding to feed his rage and get a good turn out of it.

“ _Shab_ it, Ru, get on the ATC comms, we're bringing the entire ship, creds and spice to the Hutt. First, we buy the slaves.” He openly grimaced in his bucket saying that. “Then we take everything to her palace, say that the ship, plus excess is for the debts and the slaves in lieu of the standard bribes.”

“What excess?”

“The creds from both of them, the fact we have _another_ insolent spicer, and,” he _loved_ his bucket sometimes, “The holo-recording of us getting the creds from Soran in the first place, that should go some way in aussaging any bad feelings over the lack of bribes. But first, grab everything from the nav-computer, I want all their routes, destinations, everything. We'll be _busy_ over the next few months.”

“ _Oya_.”

And with that, Ru turned, indicating Neua should place the box down, and giving her the small pistol liberated from the slicer.

Menwhile, Obi Wan continued rubbing the boy's back trying to comfort him. As the sobs began to reduce, he felt the ship take off.

“ _Udessi, ad'ika._ ” he kept muttering, hoping to calm the boy

Then a small watery voice from the crook between his helmet and sholderpad sounded.

“Hmm.. m'names no' udsee or adeek. S'aria.”

It took a few seconds for Obi Wan to process that, given that the vicious screaming a few minutes previously had garbled the words slightly.

“I'm sorry my young friend, did you say Saria?” But it was no use, the boy had gone back to silence, preferring to grasp the edges of his armour as if it would protect him. Well, the armour itself wouldn't, but obi would.

It was not a name he was familiar with, nor was the species, a near human if he had to guess, there was no human genetic makeup that would give such pale skin and hair that he knew of, and lack of melanin did not seem an issue given the brown eyes.

“Well my friend, come with me, we'll just goto the cockpit and see Tatooine below us.” The sight of flying would always, without doubt, give younglings a sense of wonder and, he _hoped_ , calm this one down, who was still hiccuping and trembling.

Flying the ship to Gardulla's palace went relatively smoothly. Barring the odd Tusken attempts to shoot them down with slugs for flying too low over their territory, it was _almost_ peaceful.

“So, this one is named Saria?” Ru, sans bucket, was still getting her head around the young boy sleepily clinging onto Obi-Wans armour like his life depended on it. After the initial jokes about how anything could stand the smell, how comfortable the armour must be and that he attracted younglings with a skill that a mother gundark would envy, they began discussing the other slaves and their, apparently, new companion.

“Yes, well that's all I got out of him. Any ideas where the name is from?”

“On Telos, I vaguely remember a lesson on old deities, I _think_ Sariathal was the god of war? Or crops? Or something. So he's probably half Telosian, or at least had family linked there.” Stroking her chin deep in thought, she suddenly perked up.

“ _Ba'vodu_ , one question.”

“You've already asked one, but go ahead.”

“ _Mirsheb_ , that was a statement. Anyway, will I be getting another cousin?”

“Ru...”

“Ah, come on Ben, he likes you, he's got _mandokarla_ , if he can't find any other relatives, you and _ba'vod_ Satine will be great for him.” Her green eyes sparked with yet more mischief. “And considering how fast he calmed down with that mumbo-jumbo o'yours, you've got a pada-thingy as well!” She began laughing now.

It was something of a running gag that all of the clan, Obi-Wan included, would refer to the Force, Jedi and whatever else using childish phrases in normal conversation, it was only when there was something serious that the reverted to the proper terms.

The boy in question was sleeping, relatively peacefully against his armour, still not moved from his initial position, leading Obi Wan to fear he'd overdone it on the Force suggestions, or maybe he was that receptive. It definitely warranted further investigation.

He was pulled out of thinking of the possibilities when Ru spoke up, just as Gardulla's palace was coming into view.

“ _Right_ , one Hutt palace coming up. D'you want me to come with?” Obi Wan could detect an undercurrent of worry, going into a Hutt's palace alone was never a wise move after all. Ru was even clipping in a new round of tibbanna gas into her pistol.

“No, stay here, I need someone to guard the ship. I'll go about securing transport back to the docking bay, the Hutt isn't getting the spice or ship until we can be sure that there aren't any trackers or detonators on these three.” No need to specifiy _which_ three he ment.

“Ok,

“Also can you give me your pistol.”

“ _Why,_ you've got your own, greedy _shab_.”

“It's a courtesy to Gardulla, you want her to think her defences are good, so...”

“Bring in weapons, act like it's a threat?! That's _mad_.”

“I never said Hutts were logical beings, _Ru'ika_.”

Before she could respond, the ship's main comm crackled to life.

“Unidentified craft, execute landing maneuvers or face hostile action.”

“Ah shab, we didn't plug in our transponder codes, this could get _na'shev'la_.”

Grabbing the headset, Obi Wan quickly sent a response on the Hutt's pre-designated frequency.

“This is bounty hunter Vyyk Draygo returning to Gardulla a Twi'lek scum who cheated Her Excellency on the Boonta Eve race today, personal transponder code E-834-B98-V. Requesting permission to land in hanger to deliver bounty.” He wasn't stupid enough to give the Hutts his actual name when carrying out jobs for them after all.

A few minutes of radio silence passed between the ships, Ru careful to fly _just_ outside the Hutt's airspace. The silence on the other end was entirely due to evoking Gardulla's name, and everyone who lived long enough under the Hutt to land relatively cushy jobs as patrol pilots would know that interfering with one of her personal bounties always resulted in a much reduced life expectancy for them.

“The ship does not match the description of your transponder code, Draygo.”

“This ship was recently acquired, but still has the bounty within, along with my papers, I am willing to land the craft in one of the smaller hangers, but I am unsure of Gardulla's patience, especially as the bounty has links to Jabba.”

 _That_ would get them in the main 'hanger', really just the largest of the alcoves used for freighters, the skiffs being in their own alcove closer to the desert floor.

“Ship E834, proceed to Hanger 1, you will be escorted by our fighter ES-9ON on frequency 94.32, you may proceed.”

Ru, the better pilot out of the two of them, quickly maneuvered to follow the small modified Headhunter across the sands. It was something of an irritant that pilots were never told the exact location of the hangers, thus relying on Hutt escorts, with any ship arriving without an escort being shot down regardless. It reduced the amount of pilots coming into Gardulla's hangers at any one time, and thus reduced any earnings on bounties or 'jobs' she may have put out, but it _did_ make for any assassination attempts that much more difficult, especially if the assassin was not backed up by powerful forces.

Usually, when an escort was given, the escorting fighter would comm the escortee as a courtesy, giving an appropriate distance to keep and when to level off. Gardulla, however, was unusual even for a Hutt, and such niceties were not followed, the fighter quickly making headway towards what could have been a hanger, _or another rocky outcrop to confuse us_.

Eventually, after passing _yet another_ cave system, they were led into what appeared to be an unremarkable cave, right up until the _Strike_ was a few dozen feet away, then lights and durasteel lining could be seen in the mouth of the cave, along with the suggestion of concealed anti-aircraft positions.

Neua, who had come up to the cockpit gasped at this.

“By the Godess, an entire _army_ could hide here.” She glanced around, so encased in the view not realising that Obi Wan was present, and shrank back slightly when she saw him.

“Hey, Neua, relax, this one's with me. His bark is worse than his bite.” Ru turned around, looking at the now frightened Twi'lek comfortingly. It could've been due to her fear of his dominance of the other slavers, or simply that Ru had taken off her bucket whilst his remained on, partially out of habit, partially to not disturb the sleeping bundle.

He would've chosen this moment to say something witty about being fearsome whilst having a small sleeping human attached to him, but outside the cockpit window, he could see a number of Gammoreons moving towards the ship.

“Right, I'll go out with the _wermos_ , Ru, stay here, let _no one_ on the ship unless I give you confirmation.”

He extracted the sleeping bundle from his chest and gently passed him to Ru, making sure he didn't wake up, before walking out to the holding area where, despite requests, the two recently freed slaves did not budge.

“Right, you two. I will lower the cage. _Any_ movement, and I'll get a change to work on my target practice.”

Sufficiently quelled, the slavers made almost no movement, bar a whimper or two, on the lowering of the cage.

Fortunately, the holding cells were also equipped with cuffs and chains to hold their occupants. Obi Wan took visious pleasure in turning the equipment against its owners.

Once the two were sufficiently chained, he half dragged half escorted them to the door leading to the exit ramp.

“Ru, _tenn ures'ya_.”

Better start speaking mando until he met the Hutt, just to avoid any other scenes like the one earlier.

As the door opened, he forced the two in front of him and into the waiting stench of the Gammoreans.

“We have business with Gardulla. Take me to her.” Of course, anyone coming in the 'main hanger' would have business with Gardulla, but this way, both slavers would know that by trying to escape, they would be irritating not only himself, but a Hutt as well, _that_ should keep them both in line.

The pig-nosed guards simply turned and walked towards one of the many corridors leading out of the hanger, well, at least they didn't linger. The same could not be said about their smell however.

“Follow them, _wermo_.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mando:  
> Udessi, ad'ika : relax little one  
> Mirsheb: smartarse  
> mandokarla : 'right stuff', potential to be mandalorian, tough as nails  
> na'shev'la : loud, dangerous, hot, euphemism for fighting


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Qui Gon and co. finally get back to the ship, between meeting Anakin Skywalker and the Fateful Boonta Eve Classic Podrace.
> 
> The Invasion of Naboo, to anyone trained in military strategy, even with a passing knowledge, seems ludicrous, surely there would be far more subtle ways of invading a planet rather than all out war, especially if warring against a Galactic Hyperpower like the Republic. It makes no sense...

968:9:16 10:27pm (around 5:40pm on Tatooine in Mos Espa)

Upon getting back to their ship, after staying the night in the Skywalker household, Padme had sequestered herself in her rooms. Well, the rooms the Queen _and handmaidens_ conveniently shared.How no one knew of the 'handmaiden's' secret was quite beyond him. However, as the 'neutral' party and observer in the mission, not that the _negotiations_ had gotten anywhere, he could not reveal potentially advantageous information about either party if he discovered it.

And, to be honest, he rather missed the subterfuge associated with decoys, undercover meetings and tense back-and-forth, it felt good to, if not directly take part, then at lest to watch others engage in it.

_Ah careful now, you'll get lost in memories, again, and you know where that leads._

After chastising himself, he made his way to the cockpit to discuss with Olle and Panaka any recent goings on. It wasn't that he didn't _trust_ them, he'd wanted to leave the Queen behind under their protection after all, but he always felt safer knowing any and all occurrences on a mission, if only to put his own mind, and imagination, at rest.

“No, no, its all been quiet on the scanners, save for a couple of, _hells_ , I don't even know _what_ they are, overgrown Tatooine rats if anything. Almost a big a nuisance as the damn gungans.” Ric Olle, realising a second too late that a member of the _Jedi's own party_ was a gungan quickly tried to backtrack.”Well thats not to say that _some_ gungans aren't alright, just that in general, most've 'em are mischievous as best, and downright aggressive at worst, Master Jedi.”

“Calm yourself captain, you would know more about the indigenous populations of your planet better than I, there is nothing to worry about.” Although the local Gungan Boss' reaction to assisting the Naboo became more reasonable if, like Olle, the humans thought of the gungans in terms of pests and vermin, with mischievous and aggressive being terms more linked with feral animals not understood by humans.

Really, the Trade Federation could've put forward some concessions to the Gungans, and engulf the planet in a civil war that they could then interfere with, saying they were protecting the plasma mines and refractories whilst slowly exerting control with proxy agents.

Come to think of it, _why_ didn't they do that? It would be a much easier move to depict as non-aggressive in the senate, where their influence would, if not outright table the debate, at least drag it out until the other parties would loose support in the face of overwhelming influence and money from the TF.

Yes signing the bills to make it look like the Naboo had called on their blockading forces to stop a Gungan uprising _would_ achieve the same ends, but _only_ if the bills were signed by the Queen of Naboo, and that was completely discounting any transmissions able to be sent off-planet beforehand. Did they _want_ the wider galaxy to know a trading conglomerate had invaded a relatively wealthy mid-rim planet, that they could use such tactics again against unhappy/obtrusive parties against them? That would dissolve almost any of their diplomatic influence faster than virtually anything else. The Republic had not been at peace for near a thousand years without forcibly checking the rise of aggressive powers like that. It was pure madness.

“The message from Governer Bibble was not replied to, as per your request, _Master Jedi_.”

The emphasis the head of security put on those words, yes it must have been difficult to hear messages outlining the suffering of his people, under orders, ostensibly by the Queen but in reality by their Jedi Protector, that they were to send no transmissions of any kind, less they give away their position. But there was no point in blaming _him_ for it, steps like this would keep their Queen, and by extension their best chance at fighting the invasion, alive. Any divisions would hinder their mutual goal, of getting the Queen to Coruscant in order to prevail the realities of the situation on the Galactic Senate.

“Now, I must ask, the rations we have, even supplanted by those you purchased, will not last a standard cycle. How long in your estimation will we be stuck here, how heavily do I need to ration the food?”

“We have an opportunity to gain the parts we need in five standard days.”

“Lucky, we won't need to ration _too heavily_ then, although I'd prefer it if everyone was down to at least quarter portions so we can last at least twenty standard days.”

“A wise decision, Captain.”

“A _wiser_ decision would be to sell some of the Royal Garmets and Her Majesty's Jewelry to pay for direct passage to Coruscant. No more than seven thousand credits, and those fabrics are the highest quality in all of Naboo.”

“The levels of poverty mean that selling anything of value in the markets would only result in us gaining attention, not to mention the potential as being labelled 'insurgents' in the local _black_ markets, which would be our only real option, except the fact that, as you pointed out earlier Captain, the Hutts _are_ gangsters and _will_ seek to hostage the Queen to benefit themselves. We have _no option_ Captain except to take _this_ opportunity.”

The glare from the head of security, again a man obviously never having set foot in the Outer Rim and ignorant of Hutt cartel operations, was only brief, the good captain realising that, in this situation, as much as it galled him, their Jedi Protector knew best.

“I would also like to discuss this situation with the Queen. Would you be able to pass on a message that I am available at her convinience.”

That was it. The minuscule twitch in Panaka's right eye. He knew that Qui Gon knew that the 'handmaiden' was actually the Queen, but for the sake of the charade, would need to keep up the pretense.

“Of course _Master Jedi_. Wait here please whilst I see if the Queen is prepared to recireve you.” The man didn't like him, but such was his professionalism, he wouldn't let that get in the way of his job. He turned and as a matter of pride, to show that he was beholden only to the Queen, stopped to speak with their engineer, Lukos, before walking to the Queen's Royal Chambers, using his personal comm to request entry.

Upon receiving a response, he turned back and walked with much more determination, straight towards Qui Gon.

“She needs to prepare to see you, it will take around half an hour.”

Just to prepare and see him, either Padme was changing places and needed to get into her robes of state, or one of the other decoys, … _Rabe? Zabe? Shabe?_ … was taking her place but still had to put finishing touches on her make up.

It was a farce, he knew that much, one that, given the potential for repeated switching at the young Queen's apparent whims, would serve only to use up time, which was the one thing they had in short supply and could not replenish.

“Very well, Captain, I shall inspect the ship and ensure that any unpleasantness is avoided.”

It was more an excuse to look at the hyperdrive, _again_ , and see, with an albeit untrained eye, if anything at all was salvageable or could be sold quickly, if nothing else then to buy water or food rations.

After an hour, he estimated between fifteen and sixty credits worth, or thirty to ninety wupuipi in the local currency, at most, barely enough for a week's food and water rations for the fifteen or so inhabitants of the ship if bribes, local extortionate pricing and currency conversion was taken into account.

Well, it was just lucky that they would only need five days before getting out, hopefully with the boy as well. As he was contemplating this, one of the handmaidens flowed from the doorway towards him and the other three engineers.

“Master Jedi.” The enunciation, and emotions in the Force, showed that she at least knew of the disagreement between Padme and himself the other day. “The Queen will see you now in the meeting room.”

That made sense, rather than drag it out into the ship's throne room, the more informal meeting room would be much better. Although he wouldn't put it past an annoyed teenager to surround a perceived enemy with her own entourage, but for apparently strictly non-violent people, that sort of intimidation tactic seemed out of place. Still, from the weapons training received by the handmaidens and guards, _some_ aggressive actions were used where appropriate. These apparent contradictions just made the upcoming meeting much more interesting.

“Of course, Handmaiden, lead the way.”

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, timing jumping around a bit. I will be using Qui Gon's POV, so yes, it may look like I'm bashing the Naboo, BUT it's from Qui Gon's POV, a man who, after 30+ years of serving as a Jedi exploring the galaxy, is more than a bit cynical, especially since he's lost his padawan and finds himself the proverbial 'one eyed man' in the land of the blind with regards to knowledge of fighting, the Outer Rim and completing a mission regardless of personal feelings.
> 
> Bear in mind that, a (50+) year old human just coming out of the desert, and being flagrantly reminded that, yes he's on a slave planet, and no, he can't do anything about it, he even needs to implicitly support such a place via his gamble with a slave owner, and, you can see him being a bit short with everyone, and not really bothering to learn names of handmaidens when they haven't had much interaction with him bar Padme.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A bit more build up of Qui-Gon and the Royal Party (TM), just to show how a wiley old Jedi would respond to such an event.
> 
> (Can ALL Jedi be serene and almost robotic ALL of the time, I doubt it, this chapter is about humanising them a bit more)

968:9:16 10:30pm (around 5:48pm on Tatooine in Mos Espa)

“Master Jedi. Welcome, I only wished to discuss with you the plan that my handmaiden has informed me of.” Ah well, perhaps his subtle messages _not_ to inform the 'Queen' of the entirety of the plan, so they could avoid a situation just like this one appeared in vain. Did she 'report' it to keep up the pretense? Or perhaps this was revenge for him not trying to immediately free all of the slaves he could find?

It mattered little in the grand scheme of things, but if the girl was moved by the plight of the slaves, and would actually rather  _stay longer_ on the planet in an admirable, but misguided, attempt to free them it would make this mission all the more difficult. Whilst noble, such intentions would only serve to prolong the Naboo suffering and allow the Trade Federation more time to come up with deflecitons and lies about the occupation. And of course, the longer it went on, the more likely the Senate would accept it as the new status quo.

“Of course your highness.” He could see Padme standing to the left behind the 'Queen', looking serene as the other three handmaidens, although in the Force she was a mixture of anger and sadness. Anger at himself? Sadness at the fact that slavery was still practiced, albeit discreetly, within the Republic? He just didn't know, but he privately commended her acting skills.

“We feel it recklass to the point of destruction, the outcome is far from certain, the potential benefit to ourselves is negligable compared to a tacit support of this barborous practice where the participants, _slaves_ Master Jedi _,_ are denied hope, to be used as pawns within a gamble benefinting a criminal group only, and, with the time lost in completing this gamble, _Nabooian lives_ are at stake, with more being lost by the passing _day_. We understand that, within this gamble, our own ship is to be used as collateral, and, if we fail, we will be trapped on this planet. Our people are unused to such conditions, and in this event more would likely perish here, which I can _not_ allow.” 

That more than anything was a sign of emotion, Qui Gon, in his experience as a diplomat, the emotion required to override training to switch from the royal 'we' to more personal 'I' would be significant. He feared he missteped with the gamble, without explaining it would  _not_ fail, realising that not everyone would share his trust in the Living Force. And, someone, or  _something_ , he thought, thinking of the R2 unit, had revealed his use of the ship as collateral.

“Your highness, this plan was necessary, it gives us the best chance of the entire ship and crew escaping this planet. This would allow us to keep the ship, through which we control and know the underlying programmes, all of the crew members, who, on such a hostile planet would not otherwise be able to live as they are accustomed. This plan also would allow us to leave this planet within a seven day timescale. The event of failure is unlikely.” There was some bristling at that, as anyone knew, gambling was far from certain, that was why it was … well, _gambling._ “Furthermore, _if_ this gamble is, unlikely as it may be, _unsuccessful_ , I have procured another way off this planet.” Of course, he would need to plan another way off, hopefully one that allowed them to take the boy to Coruscant. 

Maybe a sudden prolific streak at sabaac? 

“So you see your majesty, this _gamble_ really isn't a gamble, with your own people being able to travel to coruscant to plead your case within a seven day timescale regardless of the outcome.”

“ _Master Jedi_ , it is from our understanding that, even if we attempted it, there would be significant penalties for removing ourselves, or our ship, from the gamble you have placed us in.” Ah no doubt Padme had informed them of the slave boy Anakin, and his role in the matter.

“According to our Captain Panaka, such a deal, once verified with the Hutts, would be impossible to back out from without a severe financial penalty, which we cannot afford to pay, hence the need of the gamble. We would like to know, in the event of failure of this _plan_ , what the subsequent details of any backup you have in place would be.”

“Your Highness, I have a number of contacts recently arrived on planet who would be willing to provide suitable tradable goods for purchase of the hyperdrive. The uncertainty of themselves arriving resulted in the bet, being mindful of the need to move to Coruscant as quickly as possible. As I have assured Your Highness, in the _unlikely_ event of failure, due to a number of factors within my control, a backup has been put in place.”

Language was a wonderful thing, nothing he said was an outright lie, it just required the agreement of a few more people and some quiet communcation with a Hutt or two. Even then, there was no reason for the Force to lead him so strongly in the direction of the boy if he was not the answer to their current prediciment. The Force had never led him wrong before, after all.

“Master Jedi, we remain concerned that the very nature of the gamble, due to having our own ship as collateral, would appear to suggest a tacit support for _slavery_ by the Royal House of Naboo, and this we cannot condone.” She would've continued, but Qui Gon, a much more skilled diplomat, interrupted the fourteen year old.

“The bet was in no way made either with your own knowledge, the binding agreements of the Hutts, or involved the active movement of slaves, Your Highness. The entire operation was conducted directly by myself, and, as a member of the Jedi Order under the purview of the Galactic Senate, I am authorised to ensure that this mission concludes with minimal loss of life and property however I deem fit. On any records that are put down of this event, I shall confirm this.” _Now we are getting somewhere_ he thought. _Time to play Jedi and dust off some old protocols._

“So you see, Your Highness, this gamble in no way implacated Naboo, as I am given to understand this particular craft has not yet undergone the tradition of Naming as every personal craft of the Royal House of Naboo is, and therefore is not technically property of the Royal Household, and as such, falls under the command of the pilot or most senior member on board, which, under the protocal establishment of the Senate, declaring a Jedi Master in charge of a peacekeeping mission has overriding authority over any planetary Senator or representative during that mission, would be myself. So in these circumstances, the Senate and any other investigatory body, will see that I have made use of resources under my own control to complete a mission within accordance to rulings put in place after the Reformation that I am in no doubt you are familiar with.”

Of course, the protocals he was refering to were binding, but it had been so long that they were _actively used_ and there were so _few_ Jedi anyway that most Senators simply forgot about them.

A fourteen year old, regardless of how much training and experience in a role, could never match up to a full Jedi Master, and luckily for him, she realised that the authority of the Queen, whilst absolute on Naboo, was somewhat lessened on a Galactic scale, especially with a Jedi Master involved. Although, like any good Jedi,  _he_ was not supposed to directly point this out, it had far too many connotations to the time before the Reformation that many beings wished to forget.

If he wasn't looking for it, he never would have seen it, but, very quickly and almost out of view, Padme flashed a subtle hand signal to the 'Queen', obviously forgetting that the audience was a Jedi.

“Of course Master Jedi.” It must've galled her to say that, especially, Qui Gon thought, as it looked like she had a speech planned in her head to try and bring him down a few pegs.

“However, there is still the matter of using slaves that, whilst you have stated the need, as part of this Crisis, to make use of a barbaric institution to assist ourselves, I must ask, is there anything the Naboo can do to assist those unfortunate beings.”

“Whilst we are effectively improsoned on this planet, there is nothing we can do that will not be at the detriment to ourselves. I would advise waiting until this crisis has passed before sending a representative to this planet to see if there is anything the Naboo can assist with.”

“Of course Master Jedi. Rabe.” Another handmaiden steped forward with a deference to the Queen.

“Your Highness.”

“Go with the Jedi to our wardrobes, find anything that can be sold on this planet and bring it to our attention.”

Ah, another polite snub then. A pleased spike in the Force came from Padme, no doubt having planned this either in an attempt to buy more rations or assist the local polulace. With the emotions, it was probably the latter.

Well, 'The road to Hell', as the proverb went...

“Of course, lead on handmaiden.”

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some things here are only true From A Certain Point Of View. After all, this is Qui-Gon's POV.
> 
> Once again, any comments are gratefully recieved

**Author's Note:**

> So a few notes for you all.  
> 1\. I will be including a lot of 'Legends'/Extended Universe bits (some cannon decisions I take issue with)  
> 2\. I will try to provide a mando dictionary at the end of each chapter, or release a work of mando words used  
> 3\. Sporadic updates (sorry!)  
> 4\. Chapters may not be in a linear timeframe for appropriate character building to take place  
> This work is also on fanfiction.net and any ideas or suggestions will be gratefully received  
> World building here is a thing, this gives some background, but for those wanting constant action, sorry, you'll be disappointed until the later chapters


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